Surfing through the TV channels, I happened upon "The Graduate", on the Bravo network, but missed about 15-30 minutes of it. I'd forgotten that mom was working at Wal-Mart and that dad usually works on Sunday mornings, but swung by later. I went into my room, but didn't hear him leave when moments later, my younger brother came by to work on his car parked in back, to pick up a birthday card a cousin from England send a week ago and to lend us "Terminator 3" for a week. He lingered around to say or do something, for he stood in the doorway. He went on about where I could find work, that I was doing something wrong, to which I'd tell him that I'd gone here and there already, then I tried to halt the topic, since I was sick of it already. "Did mom and dad tell you that they're sick of me being unemployed?" I asked, to which he'd say "No, I can sense it though". He was telling me that he's been in my spot before, being couped up in my room, unmotivated, etc. It was reassuring that he has some understanding. I lent him my bootleg copy of "Kill Bill". He's gone and I'm enjoying the silence again.

It's not that I don't want any work. I have to pick myself up and get out there, and I have to believe that I will get a job that I'll be good at, that I can be a good enough employee and know my life will get unstuck from the rut it's in. Thanks to the St.John's Wort I bought the other day, my motivation is lifted a bit and I may have a different disposition at interviews. If I don't have any success, I could study jewellery-making, silversmithing and such, but that would be to get them off my back and to have another job that's not entry-level.

The mystery to Sweetfoot's name: He's apparently quite the dancer when he gets going at social events, that according to my dad, provokes side-splitting laughter. Someday I may witnes this.